The Hummingbird
The humming bird comes to the hibiscus again
Frozen in light like a drop of rain
And sticks its sweet tongue into her red throat
Sucking to its breast while minutes float
The silence of the nectars power
The magic of the evening hour.
The humming bird's feathers fracture light
And from its single shade colors bright
Spill against the praise of the eye, radiate
Truth found in the simple and inviolate
Visible where invisible is stored
Beauty rinses thirst where love is poured.
The humming bird transfigured in our hope
Flits upon the sense, a symbol in scope
More vast than our national desire
To fan our wings and fracture the fire
A thing of truth from beauty grows
And beauty never without its graces glows
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